


Possession

by islasands



Series: Lambski [22]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M, Possessiveness, darkness and light
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 22:38:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islasands/pseuds/islasands





	Possession

PART 1 

 _The endowment of vision is one thing_

 _The sight of the blind is another_

 _The former informs of a claim  
The latter the gaze of a lover_

Adam was as unrepentant as a spent hurricane. His mind, despite surface appearances of tears and misgivings, was calm with the calmness that follows a storm. He mentally wandered around the sites of greatest impact making a purely statistical inquiry; how badly could this debacle turn out? Small, medium or large ‘badly’?

He decided on medium. He mentally kicked around some of the 'medium badly' stones; the mincemeat the media would make of it, the arch looks from his parents and friends (he could already envision them), the panic of his fans and, worst of all, the possibility of a cool reception from Sauli’s parents. Fuck. Fuckity fuck.

He pushed out his lips. Well, too bad. Too fucking bad. He’d manage. He’d feel sorry, eventually, and that would be that. He briefly looked inside himself to check the likelihood of this happening, and sure enough, he _did_ feel remorse. But no sooner did he locate it than it slipped out of his mind’s hand like a bar of soap. He grinned at himself. If he had to be honest, which he didn’t, he actually felt quite wonderful. He ran his tongue over his teeth in order to appreciate the feeling more deeply. He grasped his top lip with his bottom teeth and aggressively dug them in before dragging them down the lip’s sensitive surface.

The phone rang. It was Sauli.

“My love! Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m not fucking okay.”

Silence.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“But I am.”

“Sauli, I don't give a fuck?”

Silence.

Adam hung up the call. Sauli’s voice had roused surface reactions of anger and dismay, and he didn’t want to feel them. He wanted to savour the calm, wide, flat and featureless feelings of his inner man, the one who was coolly inspecting the havoc that he himself had caused. 

He suddenly remembered a day not so long ago when without thinking he had swept his hand through a spider’s web that Sauli had been admiring. A picture of the web appeared in Adam's mind. It was one of those elaborate, jointed webs that are astonishing when you take into consideration a spider’s instinctual precision of design; it can never stand back and ‘see’ what it is doing, never appreciate its work as a whole. Adam was himself entranced, yet no sooner had Sauli remarked on its beauty than he reached out and swiftly effaced its existence. Sauli was taken aback and so was Adam. He couldn’t account for the pointless destructiveness of his action. Why on earth destroy that creature’s home? Think of all the work that had gone into it.

But then again, why not? The spider could and would rebuild. Disasters happen and you rebuild. You harden the fuck up. And besides, how could he care about the spider when Sauli was looking at him with injury and perplexity in his eyes? That was far more interesting. Far more beautiful a mystery to solve than exploring the possibility he might be harbouring a cruel streak.

He had looked away from Sauli, preparing and arranging his countenance to best represent his bid for Sauli’s forgiveness, but deep down he was thinking about being a fucker, being a secret asshole and secretly liking it. He looked at Sauli's questioning eyes. He felt like saying, "Yes, there are some serious blots on the page of my character, pal, and you know what? I never want their ink to dry. I’m not everything you think I am. I’m not everything _I_  think I am." But of course he did no such thing. Instead, he chastised himself so thoroughly that Sauli not only forgave him but tried to console him.

The phone rang again. Sauli.

“I am waiting for you. We will talk. We will be brave lovers. You will see.” 

Adam turned his back to the cell door and its peep-hole. He did not want to be overheard.

“The way I want you," he said harshly, "is not going to change.” He paused, letting the truth of that fact sink into himself, let alone into Sauli. “Maybe you need to weigh that up.”

“I don’t want you to change.”

"I am possessive and that’s not going to change.”

“Possess me then.”

And this time it was Sauli who put an end to the call. Adam repeated his name a few times before realizing he had gone. He hung up on me! he thought. He grinned. He held the phone in front of him and stared at it. He felt full of admiration both for Sauli and for himself. 

The eyes of his heart ran ahead of him, out of the cell, down the streets, into the hotel, up the lift, through the closed door into their room, coming to rest, at last, upon Sauli, standing at the window, holding back the curtain, - where they blindly, forcefully, began to undress him.

The eyes of his flesh would soon follow and together with the rest of his body, take firm and full possession of their claim.

 

 

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End file.
